Ancient Grudges
by Celtic Leigh
Summary: Some things just get better with age...Carmen is not one of them...


Carmen's 55, and in denial...  
  
***  
  
Carmencita Inez was, at 55, an imposing example of the hags and wicked witches that populated fairy tales - still beautiful, and almost grandmotherly in her looks - but her attitude hadn't changed since she was twenty, it was still that of a rabid viper, but not the irrational serpent she'd been in her youth - now that demeanor had time to ripen, to achieve subtlety and experience that would have been unfathomable to her younger self. And while she wasn't as overt as boiling children to make her daily meals, it was quite likely that an unpleasant fairy tale would be centered around her midlife crisis.  
  
She sat in her living room, knitting, looking all the world like somebody's fairy godmother, except for the unusual decorations that hung upon her walls - swords, battleaxes, diagrams of human anatomy, charts on diseases and logic functions, portraits of infamous tyrants. Thankfully, she didn't have any grandchildren.  
  
A knock on her door woke her from her reverie. Putting on her best scowl, she stalked over to the large oak door, and her frown deepened even more when she saw who had come to call - a youngish night elf stood grinning on her front porch. Carmen flung open the door, giving her only a terse, "Well?"  
  
Marisa rolled her eyes. "Cita - remember me? Lady Serpentine...you know...once best-friend."  
  
"I know. It makes me sick just looking at you, brat."  
  
"Don't frown like that, you'll get wrinkles...and at your young age."  
  
Carmen wasted no time in slapping Marisa. She realized that the elf was still young, and could probably hurt her very badly, but she didn't worry about that. She knew Marisa well enough to know that her attack would be more subtle than overt violence.  
  
Marsa sighed. "Is this just some ploy, or are you really turning into an old, bitter hermit, Cita dear?"  
  
"Don't call me Cita...nobody's used that name with me for over fifteen years."  
  
"All right, fine...see if I care. Just because some of your hair had the audacity to go white, and your complexion isn't as good as it used to be, you don't have to take it out on me. Tea, please."  
  
Carmen stiffened. "I haven't invited you in, Marisa...and I don't think I'll be able to stand your company much longer."  
  
"Why? Because I'm a young, annoying brat who reminds you of your lost youth? Get over it. And bring the tea so that us two old matrons can discuss life and the effect of half our friends being plant fertilizer."  
  
Carmen cracked a small smile. "She finally has the sense to appeal to my advanced age, and arthritis. Excellent. I'll invite her in."  
  
Marisa looked at Carmen thoughtfully. "You're hardly arthritic. And you've been giving fencing lessons, so I won't expect you to be the total hag we all prophesized in your future."  
  
Carmen laughed mirthlessly. "Hansel and Gretel, here I come. Always hated that story - the old lady was just protecting her property from vandalism. I realize that she later attempted to roast the children, which is a bit of an over-reaction, but still...I'd be right along with her, popping children into the oven."  
  
"I figured as much. Who are you giving the lessons to?"  
  
"Kid, about twenty-two. Name's Marc, and he's pretty good - but hardly as good as me."  
  
"Still have your inane pride in your fencing abilities, don't you?"  
  
"I can still skewer you, so I wouldn't push."  
  
"But you don't carry a weapon any more."  
  
"Too hard on my joints. You never know, I might die of cardiac arrest."  
  
"Really? Remember to invite me to your funeral."  
  
"I'd love to, but I think I'm going to die of some ugly disease, so I'm not sure you want to be present when I'm dead."  
  
"I see...in that case, what evil are you trying to cure the world of?"  
  
"Leprosy. I think it's also going to be what kills me."  
  
Marisa nodded thoughtfully. "I really never thought you'd get this far with the clinic, but once again you've managed to amaze me."  
  
Carmen snickered, an odd sound, considering her age. "Yeah, well if my bedside manner were more appealing, I might have gotten more done. But rumor has it that I'm a witch and ought to be burned. Amazing, no?"  
  
"Not at all... I remember an incident a few years back when you were actually tied to a stake."  
  
Carmen scowled. "No thanks to you, Mari..."  
  
"Rub it in."  
  
"I will your visit has given me delusions of being twenty again, but the truth is that I enjoy being an old woman who's obsessive-compulsive about her garden, and scares small children."  
  
"I'd always had a feeling you'd get mellow with age."  
  
Carmen snickered, and went into her kitchen. Marisa bit back a frown, and realized how old her friend had become - her once curly raven hair was now straight, and mostly white, still twisted into the viscously tight ponytail that had been the Spaniard's trademark. And even though Carmen's walk was still sure, balanced, graceful, it did hint at signs of age. Fifty-five wasn't really old, even for a human. But Marisa just couldn't bring herself to face how old her friend looked. And with the clinic she was operating, treating all sorts of exotic diseases, well, Marisa gave her an optimistic hope of ten years before she died. After all, she was still a criminal, albeit a retired one, and she knew that there were plenty of people who would enjoy her execution, whether it be public, private or from some exotic plague.  
  
Carmen returned with two steaming glasses of hot tea infused with milk and honey - she handed one to her friend, and sipped at one herself, leaning back in her chair, her face a mask of perfect calmness and serenity. Or perhaps senility? Marisa smiled at the thought. if Carmen were ever senile, that would be a day to remember.  
  
The night elf rolled her cup between her palms. "Kylik was thinking of coming over to see you."  
  
Carmen smiled. "Bastard. I still like him, even though he probably still looks like he's twenty - and after that terrible night in Dublin, the thought of going to bed with him has been utterly revolting."  
  
In spite of herself, Marisa smirked back at Carmen. "Yeah, and we always thought you'd be the one he finally decided to fall in love with. But then Tsunami rather unceremoniously ruined your life."  
  
"I stayed out of it, for the most part. And I just feel sorry for anyone who makes love to him. Why did he want to see me?"  
  
"He wanted to tease you about prime numbers and Portugal."  
  
Carmen recoiled a bit at the barb, but saw the humour in it, and appreciated it. "We were pretty good. How's Kitten?"  
  
"He still looks like he's dead, and he's still hopeless when it comes to romance, and he probably still hates you, so you decide."  
  
"He's just fine, then. How about the rest? Snuggle Bunny and the Drizzit, I mean..."  
  
"Jarl is as conservative as ever, and Drizzt is officially insecure. Gods I have one affair and he doubts my every move."  
  
Carmen cocked an eyebrow. "ONE affair?"  
  
Marisa laughed. "You know me too well - his suspicions are perfectly justified, but, really, what did he expect?"  
  
Carmen shrugged. "I'd always hoped you'd convert to Catholicism, Marisa, but religion is still beyond your reach."  
  
Marisa shrugged. "Atheism does have it's advantages, Carmen..."  
  
"True. It's awfully convenient for those who live by it. have you seen Aidan around?"  
  
Marisa nodded. "Yes. She's still a romantic sop around Elrohir, but I think she's finally getting used to her household chores, and Eladan's marriage."  
  
Carmen nodded, digesting all of the news Marisa had given her. Finally, she dared to ask a very delicate question. "And Rejal?"  
  
Marisa sighed. "She's not happy - she never has been either. When Wiseguy finally cajoled her into coming back, she never recognized it as a favor. Now she's bound and gagged - she just wants to run away and there's no chance of that...Sven's probably the only thing keeping her sane right now."  
  
"It's funny - I always wanted to get higher with my nobility and power standings, but she's always wanted to run away from it. Now we're both in the exact positions we hate - I have no power, and she has all the power in the world. I really do feel sorry for her."  
  
"Yeah...well I suppose I'll ask why your greeting was so charming, Cita..."  
  
"I don't know. I'm still seeing missed opportunities everywhere I go - constant reminders of what I should have done...it makes me sick. I saw you standing there, and it was just the ultimate slap in the face - you still have so much opportunity, you're still the cocksure young ass i used to know, and here I am, an old hag without a friend in the world...It does make me sick to look at you, and you are a little bitch...even though I know you're older than me, I feel like your mother...Very annoying, let me assure you."  
  
Marisa nodded, and sipped the last of her tea. "Well, it was good to see you, girl... I may drop by in another six years."  
  
Carmen smiled wickedly. "Twenty years ago, you would have been charged as an accessory to your own murder for calling me that."  
  
"I know. It's so convenient to have aging friends."  
  
"I can still smack you, and feel like I'm yelling at my kid for being a bad girl."  
  
"God forbid."  
  
"See! I HAVE converted you."  
  
'Not likely."  
  
Marisa stood up, and conjured up a screen of shimmering blue light - a portal to whatever destination the elf had in mind. Carmen clasped her hand in a gesture of friendship before the elf stepped through and dismissed the magical doorway.  
  
Carmen slumped into her chair. "I hate you, Marisa." 


End file.
